


When Three Lost Souls Come Together in the TARDIS

by Megg33k



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, spoilers for Merlin series finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megg33k/pseuds/Megg33k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven, Sherlock, and Merlin come together in the TARDIS... then they cum together in the TARDIS.</p><p>I call the this ship Sherleverlin. Feel free to use that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FairyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyRose/gifts).



> I wrote this as a request, and I intended it to be a joyful romp of happy threesome sex. But it went really angsty... but then it ended well. I can't say much else.
> 
> Also, the style between the first chapter and the second are wildly different. This was intentional. Sorry if it's jarring.

"My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;

she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane."  
-Robert Frost

***

Once upon a time, two men—similar in both appearance and circumstance –took up residence in a flying blue box. A raven-haired detective feigning death for the sake of a sandy-haired doctor—to whom he had yet to profess his love –shambled aboard, significantly worse for the wear after an insurmountable fall. Following close behind was a lost soul, a lonely wizard in mourning for his fallen King—the man who died in his arms, regrettably a friend rather than a lover. A matching pair: the walking corpse of a modern day magician alongside an ancient sorcerer, desperate to believe the dead could live again.

And a reluctant hero stood at the helm of an impossible ship—ready to captain two despairing men through all of time and space, because he understood. If stone angels were the universe’s loneliest assassins, he was surely its loneliest saviour—a truth destined to remain, regardless of the company he kept or companions at his side.

It was in the darkened days of autumn, when earthen trees were cold and bare, that the lonesome travelers slipped through time streams, unnoticed, to peek in on those they’d lost. A weeping doctor and a sword-wielding prince, both images lending nothing but the burden of unimaginable sadness to their invisible audience. While one lamented over a broken heart, the other remained ignorant to what lay ahead, and neither was any the wiser how short a distance their heartstrings needed to stretch.

But three men—even those as extraordinary as the ones trip-tumbling together through the stars –couldn’t possibly shoulder so much blame without seeking a shred of comfort. So, from time to time—when sorrow overtook them whilst drifting through the cosmos –they allowed themselves the release of falling into one another’s arms. And, while two of them thought often of their flaxen-locked loves, one hoped only to feel something for the first time in centuries.

And, as clothing was shed—coat and scarf, tunic and neckerchief, tweed and bowtie –they allowed guilt and grief to also slip briefly from their souls. The milky expanse of the detective’s form draped languidly over the wires and hoses beneath the TARDIS’ console, a young wizard straddling his hips and the wrong sort of doctor between his thighs.

Ancient lips graced an outstretched neck, teeth scraping and nipping at innocent flesh. Violinist’s fingers pressed deep inside an entrance previously untouched. The pert peak of a nipple rolled between forefinger and thumb, the gentle rake of fingernails setting hypersensitive nerves aflame, the slick of sweat on overheated skin—each action elicited an equal but opposite reaction and resulted in a harmony of gutteral moans and piteous whines. And, when phalluses replaced fingers, the symphony grew ever louder and significantly more profane. The detective’s chest heaved beneath the sorcerer’s palms, his hair blanketed in heat with each ragged breath drawn from the raggedy Doctor at his back. The gentle sway of cables facilitated smooth thrusts and rhythmic grinding, all in sync but none more than basely present. Their releases were hollow, merely a miniscule plaster affixed over a gaping wound.

In the beginning, everything was somber—physical contact was made more out of perceived necessity than desire and carnal pleasure was accepted more than enjoyed… in the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

You see, time—as it does –healed their wounds. Hearts remained tattered, but reparations were made. The world can only remain bleak for so long, and these men had years. Eventually, they came to appreciate one another’s embrace. They grew to know the landscapes of the others’ bodies, recognize what brought the most pleasure and most effectively reduced emotional pain. A breakthrough was made the first time laughter again rang through the console room. Though their positions were the same, all the difference lay in their dispositions.

“You know what I like most about you?” Sherlock remarked to the wizard astride his hips, rocking gracefully atop his prick.

“What’s that?”

“You look a bit like I did in my youth.” He smirked. “Just nearly as attractive.”

Merlin leaned back against the Doctor’s chest, his head falling to the space man’s shoulder. “A bit of an arrogant prat, this one is. Can’t we drop him somewhere?”

“Could do, could— nnnnnnnggg” With the slightest adjustment of Sherlock’s position—no doubt his way of proving his worth –the Doctor’s reply turned from the affirmative to an animalistic mewl. “On second thought…” His sentence devolved into panting, and any trace of his previous agreeability was lost.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me. Pity.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows, bit his lower lip, and bucked hard up and into his spirited rider. “Better be nice.”

“Is that all you’ve got, old man?” Merlin taunted.

“Watch who you’re calling old,” retorted the Doctor, whacking the smart-mouthed wizard in the back of the head.

And, in that moment, something magical happened—there was a giggle. No one can say who it came from, but none will deny that they were all cackling in the end. It took but one shift of weight for the Doctor to be dislodged, Merlin to topple, and Sherlock to become stuck—tangled in his makeshift hammock. They’d have been quite a sight had anyone been around to see them… well… anyone but Sexy, and she wasn’t doing much talking these days.

A less-than-helpful hand from the Doctor later, and they were all on the floor in a fit of laughter that drew tears from their eyes. When they found each other again, they were little more than a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongues—giddy with their first taste of joy in what felt like an eternity.

To this day, no one could accurately tell you if Tab A wound up in Slot B or C—and vice versa –but it didn’t matter. Jubilance had returned to the TARDIS, and with it came life. Three men, once lost, had taught each other how to live again. They had formed bonds and made memories. And, when they eventually parted, they parted with smiles. Because, despite all their adventures together, the best were yet to come.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I should say I'm sorry... or you're welcome... or both. Taking suggestions.


End file.
